a mother's day love letter...

Top of my left ear, I’m wearing a clip-on earring with the letters “FM” on it, my mother’s initials. I feel hip, retro and self-conscious, all at the same time. Yesterday the dermatologist drained a fluid bubble from the top of my ear and told me to wear a clip-on earring for two weeks to stop liquid from returning. 

My mother passed away in 2001.

Many of us have our mother’s voices in our heads even after they’ve passed, such is the influence of mothers. 

But the gold “FM” letters attached to my ear takes it to the next level. My mother now has her own radio station in my head. 

I’ve been sharing some of her words with my husband.

Dan laughed, “Your mom has your ear.”

If my mom were here, she’d smile too.

I hear her telling me she loves the flowers in our garden. She wishes she could taste some of our vine-ripened tomatoes and thinks the basil smells lovely. She’s delighted I make homemade bread every other week. 

She did too. My mother ground her own whole wheat because she couldn’t find whole wheat bread in the grocery stores. She had an organic garden before people knew what that was. When she came into the house from gardening, you could often find ladybugs in her chestnut hair.

“They help with the aphids,” she’d laugh. “Not on my head, on the roses!”

She also had chickens that laid colorful eggs. 

The Dr. Seuss idea of not eating “green eggs and ham” was funny to my mother because we often ate green eggs.  

“We will eat them Sam I am,” she’d say and tap a green egg shell on a cast iron pan.

My mom had a lightness about how she lived. Loving flowers. Loving food. Loving babies. Loving sunlight as it touched her roses in the morning and the evening. 

“Look! It’s beautiful,” she said every day. 

Every night my mom came to my room at bedtime and together we knelt in prayer. I had a star chart and received a star sticker for making bed, brushing my teeth, being kind to my brother and saying my prayers. 

My mother gave me one penny per star and I had three jars: one for spending, one for saving and one for giving to the church, to help someone else. 

There are several prayers my mom helped me learn and memorize and I still say them for comfort and guidance.  

After my mom passed, I ended up with her Bible. She took a lot of Bible study classes and in the margin are her notes. Under passages that she loved are her underlinings. It feels personal, even private, to read someone’s notes in their Bible. To see what passages sustained them, lifted them, fed them. 

Reading her Bible for years has allowed me to understand my mom in a new way. Every day, she fought to be a person of light. I didn’t know that she worked to be that way. Again and again, she committed to bring light, to be loving, to be kind. 

She put post-its on her bathroom mirror with her resolutions ~ Laugh More. Say kind things to strangers. Listen better. 

My mom came across with such goodness, joy and light, that it seems hard to believe how hard she worked at it. She made loving seem effortless. Like an Olympic skier on a slalom course.

As I go about my days and get sucked into challenging situations and tip towards the negative, I find her example inspiring. 

Years into chemo treatments and surgeries, my mom took our youngest who was three at the time to a symphony rehearsal because he loved music and he especially loved tubas. 

Afterwards, all he could say was, “I touched the tuba!”

All she could say was, “I’m so glad I took him.”

I think right now my mom knows I need her “FM” radio station. I need her love, her counsel, her kindness, her strength, her faith. 

I hear her. I hear her saying, “Walk in the light. It’s worth it. I am with you.”

Fortunately, my mom taught me the habit of getting on my knees asking for help, saying thank you and putting a penny in jar to help someone else. 

It’s a beautiful way to live. It can look effortless. But it takes work every day to stay in the light. And it’s worth it. 

Happy Mother’s Day Mom. I love you. 

Kathleen

Here’s a song Liva, our firefly, sings to MissyAnn called “Bring Back Your Light.”

To listen to Liva’s song “Bring Back Your Light” on YouTube, please click here.

To learn more about the memoir I wrote about my mother called “The Tiffany Box,” please click here.